Prettier Than Caged Birds
by Kylelover101
Summary: At 11 Sam wants to break free from his family. He truly thinks he can make it on his own. If only his older, overprotective brother, Dean, hadn't had plans for him already. And they didn't involve Sam leaving. Ever. Possessive!Winchesters. Teen!chesters Limp!Sick!Sam Papa Winchester and protective older brother Dean.


**Hello Supernatural fans, my name is Kylelover101 and if you know me from** _The Outsiders_ **part of Fanfiction, then you'll know I write mainly for that fandom. However, I have been a SPN fan since the series came out when I was 13; so after almost 10 years, I'm finally writing a fic about them. This fic in particular is both pre-series (teen!chesters) and takes place around Season 1. There will be some Non-Con and strong language as well as violence involved. I hope you all enjoy and are kind enough to leave a review and keep coming back for more.**

* * *

 ** _Prettier Than Caged Birds_**

 _At 11 Sam wants to break free from his family  
he truly thinks he can make it on his own. If only  
his older, overprotective brother, Dean, hadn't had  
plans for him already. And they didn't involve Sam leaving.  
Ever_

 **Rating: M**

 **warning: Language, bullying and possessive!Winchesters.**

* * *

 _Chicago, 1996_

Sam sat quietly on a bench outside James Shields Middle School writing in a notebook. He would glance up every once in a while, hoping to see the familiar black Impala that would come rescue him from this hell hole. At only eleven years old, Sam had been to five different schools and it was only the end of November. Being the new kid wasn't always fun, sure on one hand some kids were nice to you or avoided you because you were new, but then there was the possibility of being out casted or picked on _because_ of that factor too, and Sam had his fair share of bullies to last him a lifetime. This place in particular seemed to be testing him.

City kids were a new level of cruel. Sam had noticed, in the smaller towns they had lived in, country kids would give him the benefit of the doubt while sticking to their group of friends. However, if Sam even sneezed in the wrong direction here, he was the subject of ridicule. Earlier today, while at the library, he had checked out some books he felt would help his Dad and Dean on their next hunt. When the librarian asked him about his "fascination" with ghost stories and lore of the supernatural, he almost let it slip of his Dad's job.

Instead, he shrugged. "Guess I just like that stuff," was his lame excuse, but amusement to the girls behind him. Sam hadn't known his reason for his unpopularity, perhaps it was because he showed manners to a teacher and it looked like kiss-assing. He wondered if it could be his attire, John hadn't been able to make enough to get Sam a new wardrobe, exactly and he was stuck with Dean's hand-me-downs. Sam didn't care, but the jeans he wore were a bit long and he had to roll them at the cuffs and the light brown coat was heavy on his shoulders.

"Oi, Knight!" Sam didn't look up until a group of kids approached him. "I'm talking to you, Knight!"

Knight. One of the many last names Sam had been given to lie to the school by his father, AKA: Mr. Devon Knight. How John kept up with all these names, Sam would never know, but Sam's biggest fear was someone would know if he was lying somehow from his lack of response to being called. Sam glared up at the two boys that stood in front of him: Thomas Mercer and Kearney Barns. Two bullies that were known for their wet-willies, spitball lengths and excellent knowledge in stuffing a kid in a locker. Sam, thankfully, hadn't been subjected to the last one, but if his Dad didn't finish the case soon, then it was only a matter of time.

This was one of the rare moments in life, where Sam did want to move quickly. Normally he'd like to stay in a place long enough to make a friend, but he knew this place wouldn't guarantee a decent lab partner, let alone a friend.

"What you doing, Sammy?" Kearney smirked. He was tall and had a shaved head that he kept warn with an Adidas wool cap. Sam knew he stole it from another kid during gym. Kearney was a thief unlike Thomas, who was so intimidating, he could have whatever he wanted as long as he had you cornered. Sam was too young and shy to say it, but he knew these two were nothing like his Dad and Brother, Dean. Thomas and Kearney had to rely on bullying and intimidation alone to get what they wanted, one glare from Dean or John and people knew they meant business, well, at least to Sam that's what happened.

"Writing in your _widdle diary_?" Kearney taunted before yanking the book out of Sam's hand.

"Hey!" Sam cried, jumping to retrieve it before Thomas shoved him back to the concrete bench and sat on him. "Get off!" Sam tried punching and wiggling around but the older kid wouldn't budge. School had only been out for ten minutes, so there was some students still left. Sam often wondered why no faculty members had come to his aid yet. Then again, he couldn't recall the last teacher that could handle Thomas and Kearney. Sam watched in horror as Kearney read aloud what he wrote, also adding in his own input to further embarrass Sam. " _Dear Diary, Dad's making us move but I miss Oklahoma, I miss being with my boyfriend and having him suck my-_ "

"Shut up!" Sam screamed.

"Damn, Knight, you're writing every detail of your sex life here. Nice to know you like your men, tall, fat and hairy." Kearney fumbled through the pages. "Oh, who's this? Dean? That your regular butt buddy or somthin'?"

"It's my brother, you fatass!" Sam glared.

"Eeew you do things with your brother?" Kearney shouted, looking surprised but Sam knew he was only mocking him. "Damn, someone call the cops or whoever for ethic violations, this kid needs to be locked up."

His anger at a peak, Sam gave everything he had in his whole body to push Thomas off of him and managed to stand on his own two feet, his backpack dripping off his shoulders. Some kids began to crowd around, amazed to see Sam free from the hold and look angry enough to start throwing a punch. Kearney smirked, closing the book with one hand and dropping it. The notebook landing in a steady stream eventually leading down a storm drain. "Ooops. Can't publish your gay erotica now, Sam."

Sam was livid. He hardly got extra school supplies to write down whatever he wanted. And there were other important notes in that book, and numbers of friends from other states he promised to call. When Kearney dropped that book into the sewer, he flushed away what little happiness of Sam's life along with it. Sam was too angry to care if he would be going up against two large bullies against his small frame, he was angry. He didn't see Thomas kick up his leg, hitting him square in the gut and sending him falling backwards to the concrete.

A whole bunch of kids began rallying around them, screaming _"Fight, fight, fight, fight!"_ repeatedly. Fights, as scary and swift as they were, were always exciting.

"Hey Sam, ever had a broken arm before?" Thomas laughed, kicking the boy onto his belly and twisting his arm behind his back, making Sam scream loudly. The pain in having your arm twisted at an odd angle swiftly and held there was so excruciating. Mix in Kearney throwing a few blows to his eye into the bowl and you have a recipe for disaster.

"Stop it!" Sam cried.

"No." Thomas laughed.

Through the bullies' laughter, Sam could hear a familiar low rumble and immediately, he knew he was saved. Thomas and Kearney, however, had no inking to what that noise meant to them until it was too late and the pressure off of Sam's arm was gone, along with other kids cheering. Sam held back his whimpers and focused on retrieving his backpack and getting out of dodge. He didn't need once to look behind him to know Kearney and Thomas were a bloody mess, how bloody, was something he could live without knowing. Sam charged through an opening in the crowd, bolting from the school property to the street and ran until he reached the rental house his Dad and Dean and him had been living at.

He was out of breath by the time he entered the house and there, the tears fell.

His notebook. Those phone numbers, letters passed in class and even those stupid fortune notes he and his friends spent hours giggling over were- _gone_.

Sam knew it was a matter of time before Dean came back, he was no doubly looking for him right now, so he had to make this quick. Sam raced to the small bedroom in the back of the rental home and began putting clothes into his duffel bag. He was leaving Chicago. He'll find a bus or walk if he has to back to Oklahoma to find his old friends; or maybe to Minnesota, where his friend Danny said he could live in his tree house, or to Iowa where Sally Rodgers said he could work on the family farm if she asked her dad really nice. Either way, he had to leave soon. Dad and Dean wouldn't like hearing he wanted to leave without them.

 **SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN**

The Impala roared as Dean cruised through the streets of Chicago. This was _not_ the city for Sam to be running around. Crime rates were higher than a junkie locked in a gas station, and god knows what freaks roamed around these parts. When their Dad, John, had mentioned taking them to the city for a bigger hunt, Sam and Dean had been perplexed and confused at first. Normally John stuck to towns no bigger than a dot on the map, it was the easiest way to avoid the FBI or CPS. However, when John said it was urgent, Dean hadn't questioned him.

Still, three weeks in and Dean was beginning to bit his lip from asking his old man when they were leaving. Dean himself had been doing a few pop-fly ghost hunting and grave digging while Sammy was at school, but whatever John had been looking for, better be worth the extra days. Dean himself was never a city man, he found them to be too hectic and confusing. Sam was curious at first, but Dean was now under the assumption he hated this place as much as he did. That scene he witnessed this morning of his little brother being manhandled to the concrete while a kid twisted his arm was enough to confirm his suspicions.

Dean made up his mind: Sam was out of that school, _today_.

He cursed when he didn't see his kid-brother down any of the streets by the school and rushed to head back to the motel they were staying at. It was one of those chain motels, so it was actually a decent, clean area. John wasn't a sleaze when it came to their living quarters, but Dean had seen some questionable places. But if John felt it wasn't worth the money or time, he'd ensure Dean and Sammy were comfortable in the back of Baby. Baby would keep them safe and warm. She always did.

Spinning the Impala into a parking spot close to their door, Dean went to unlock the door, only to softly gasp when it opened at the slightest touch of his hand. _Someone was inside_. He assumed. Couldn't have been a ghost, Dean had laid a precise amount of salt along the door to go unnoticed by the maid. It had to be a human. Feeling for his blade in the inside of a secret pocket in his coat, he slowly opened the door and looked about the area. Despite the tacky colors of bright yellow following some pale blue on the walls, the kitchen was clean and had two mini fridges John broke open (like hell was he paying to use those after spending five hundred for the whole month to stay) and even a small table to eat meals at. The bathroom was tiny, but Sam fit in the tub well enough. The bedding was good enough to steal too. Sam liked the soft blanket so John promised they could take that with them.

There were only three rooms, the living and kitchen area, followed by a bedroom and bathroom in the back. The living and kitchen area were clear, so that left only two rooms. Softly tip-toeing about, Dean opened each door, finding both rooms to be empty.

He frowned. _Was it the maid, then?_ He wondered. _Perhaps they didn't shut the door tightly_.

No. He had a feeling something was missing. Someone was missing. Going back to the bedroom he shared with Sam (while John bunked on the couch) he panicked seeing his brother's belongings were missing. Sam had to of been in a hurry too, because he had left some school papers behind an his extra hoodie.

 _"Sam?!"_ He called out, becoming frantic when he received no answer.

Oh Hell no.

 **SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN**

John Winchester had the eye of a hawk, the nose like a bloodhound and the ear like a cheetah listening for it's next meal. Most of that came from Hunting the supernatural on top of being a father to an accidental prone eleven-year-old and a head-strong fifteen-year-old. However, when it came to researching, John entered a "zone" of absolute concentration where everything around him flew by just as quickly as he flew through pages. The libraries in Chicago were enormous and had a better selection than most small towns.

John had been in Chicago to investigate an odd sequence of deaths of recently widowed women. All of them dead on the same hour, in the same position (a bloodied mess of their lower half on the floor while their upper half was on the bed), almost looking as if they were praying.

It had to be some form of demonic work, John suspected. None of their houses were broken into according to police statements on the news, so all John had to do was find a position to get himself into the apartments somehow to snoop around. He had found a position for an electric workman and even a bell hopper and began filling out the forms to work the position for the case (under the name of Andrew Parks) when he felt something in his gut. Call it "parental senses" but he knew something was wrong.

Glancing up at a clock, he saw it was Four in the afternoon and silently cursed at himself. Whatever John couldn't do at home, he'd do at a library. He can commit fraud at the motel with his boys. He promised Sam he'd be home for the afternoon to help him with Algebra. John's heart twinged at the thought of his youngest. Sweet Sammy. The boy never asked for much, just to spend some time with him and John tried, so often, to make that a reality for both Sam and Dean. If his suspicions were correct, then Sam would be at the Motel by now with Dean. If he raced back now, he could get there in twenty minutes.

 **SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN**

Dean frantically looked around the downtown area. He knew Sammy didn't have any change for a bus or a subway, so his brother had to be on foot too. Panicking, Dean wondered if he had ran the wrong way, or if he actually passed Sam without knowing it. He was caught between kicking his own ass, or wondering how he was going to kick his kid brother's ass. He was outside Oakley Park trying to collect his thoughts when he spotted a familiar, too large yellow coat along with a brown knapsack-Sam.

He was sitting on a bench as well. Breathing a sigh of relief before sprinting across the lawn, Dean almost didn't hear his little brother's muffled cries.

"Sam?" He asked, approaching his little brother and standing before him so he couldn't run. Sam looked to be afraid for a moment, his glassy, tear filled eyes Dean recognized when poor Sam had a nightmare. His nose was red and no doubt stuffy. His shoulders quivered when Dean pulled him into a hug, mindful of his brother's shoulder, knowing it had to of hurt because of the bullies.

Speaking of which-

"Sam, are you hurt?" he asked.

Sam shook his head.

"Don't lie to me."

"Not, Dee, just sore." Sam hissed as Dean softly touched his shoulder. It needed to be iced. With Dean and John's luck, Sam's shoulder was sprained. But it wasn't broken.

"Sam, why didn't you tell me you were getting picked on?" Dean asked, his voice laced with a hint of anger. He was disappointed Sam hadn't spoken up. If he had, this all could have been avoided. Dean was 15 and had no problem beating up some little punk who looked at his brother wrong. The youngest Winchester hiccuped, rubbing his face with his sleeve.

"I. . . I can handle it."

"Oh really?" Dean wasn't about to argue with Sam in public, right now he had to get his brother back to the motel-which leads him to another thing, "and if I know you, I know when you're scared, you run. So what's with you running away, Sam?"

Dean hadn't said that to be mean to Sam. He couldn't blame the kid for doing what was natural to him, running when he was afraid. Sam was still a kid-a baby at that! He hadn't seen half the horrors Dean had (and he'll be damned if his little brother has to) but honestly? this wasn't what he needed right now. The thought of his little brother leaving him, was enough to send him into a downward spiral of insanity, Dean would kill anyone in his path separating him from his little brother. Call him possessive, but that's what happens when you know monsters exist.

"I. . . Kearney- He, he-he." Sam whimpered. Dean waited for a response. "He threw my notebook into the drain."

There, Sam wailed like a little kid that fell on the concrete. Dean said nothing but held him tightly before picking him up and carrying his little brother home. Thankfully, Dean had his hit growth spurt and wasn't a short kid anymore. The same couldn't be said for Sam however, who could blend in with a group of Fourth Graders. It was a long walk back to the Motel and Dean's arms were heavy by the time they reached the Impala. Immediately, John burst open the motel door, a mix of fear and confusion fixed in his face.

Rushing to take Sam from Dean, John gave Dean a look to which Dean nodded to the motel. This was best to discuss inside.

 **SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN**

John had been a tad bit worried when he came back to an empty motel. Normally Dean was on the couch watching TV and Sammy doing his homework, but there were occasions where Dean would take Sam out to get food, or to an arcade to spend some fun money, but there was no note written (as was a rule enforced by John), nor was the Impala gone. Dean was jumping at any chance he had to drive Baby now that he got his learner's permit. Baby was John's pride and joy and he had intended on giving her to Dean when he felt ready, but it seems his firstborn was ready before he was. He took excellent care of her, but John only allowed Dean to drive if he was passed out tired or for quick errands.

Then, the scary factor hit: Sam's things were gone.

His precious books, drawings and pens and pencils were off the motel nightstand and all his cloths, save for a few forgotten items were gone. John nearly had a heart attack. His youngest had ran off. No doubt Dean was looking for him, as his things were still where they were. A part of John knew things would be okay, because Dean was looking for Sam, but another part of him told himself to get off his ass and look for his baby boy. He had slipped on his boots and burst the front door open just in time to see Dean carrying Sam piggy-back style in the parking lot.

John reached out, taking his smallest child from his older brother and held the crying boy in his arms. His heart broke at the cries, but he was relieved- _so relieved_ his boy was in his arms, safe.

Entering the motel, John sat Sam on the couch and looked over the child, ensuring he wasn't harmed.

"His shoulder is probably killing him, Dad." Dean spoke up, "Caught some punk twisting his arm trying to break it."

John swallowed hard.

"Don't worry, he's way worse off than Sammy-"

"Dean, just get the ice." John cooley spoke. Dean nodded, giving a 'yes sir' before walking to the kitchen to find a plastic bag. Sam whimpered looking at his Dad. He knew he was in trouble right now. He knew it the moment Dean found him. Now he was sure to get a spanking of a lifetime. But Sam couldn't help it. He hated Chicago and wanted to leave. Had to leave. That's what he did when he was afraid, he ran and hid. Ever since he was told the monsters from his nightmares were true by Dean, Sam had become more afraid of the world and what it housed. His Dad killed those things, which put him at ease somewhat, but aroused new fears that those monsters might kill his Dad.

Dean returned with the ice and sat next to Sam, taking his coat off and helping unbutton his flannel. His throat tightened at the red line on Sam's shoulder. It wasn't broken, but did need to be attended to. John placed the ice bag and watched Sam wince.

"Cold!" He cried.

"I know, baby boy. You'll get used to it." John soothed, his deep voice a comfort to Sam now just as it was after a nightmare, or soothing Sam into a nap during long car rides.

His arm was feeling better from the ice and after some time, John spoke up. "Sam. . . why did you try to run away?"

Guilt filled the small child. Sure John knew he was being bullied at school now, but why did he make Sam say it out loud? Sam felt pathetic and weak for being subjected to that nonsense. Whimpering as a new set of fresh tears began to spill from his brown eyes and down his cheeks. Dean went to fetch some tissue from the bathroom as Sam cried.

"Cause- I hate it here!" He bawled. "People are mean and I wanna go back to Oklahoma. I had-f-friends there," Sam started as Dean wiped his face free of snot and tears. John frowned, looking at his child with empathy. "And. Ke-Kearney threw my notebook in the drain. That's all I Ha-Had of them!" Sam's cried grew louder. "And now they're gone!"

John rubbed Sam's back while keeping the ice pack at bay on poor Sam's bruised shoulder. Dean felt a vein pop on his neck. He watched their father console the youngest Winchester, rubbing soothing circles on the small of Sam's back while whispering in his little ear and running his large fingers through Sammy's mopy, curly hair.

"I know that had to be frighting just now, Sammy. But can you imagine how scared I was, how scared Dean was, when we found out you wanted to leave?" John gently spoke. "My little boy wanted to leave and get lost in the world and I wouldn't be able to find you."

The guilt was too much for Sam to handle and already he was spewing out apologies. To both his Daddy and Dean. The poor boy was so upset, he was going to make himself sick. Dean shushed his little brother, softly wiping away his tears with his thumb and giving Sam a small smile. "We know when you're scared, you run, Sammy. But Sam, running from us is another thing." Dean's voice was cold. Hell would freeze over with that tone. Sam gulped. He watched as Dean turned to their father and with a nod, Dean continued on speaking.

Sam, even at only eleven years old, knew that this wasn't normal. The more Dean spoke, the more he knew he has to get out, and it wasn't because of the bullies, either.

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 **Okaaay, something to start us all off here. What did you guys think? It's my first Supernatural fic and I'm quite pleased with it myself. Just to clarify: It will contain Teen!chesters and leads up to Season 1 (Maybe Season 2, haven't decided yet) But I hope you all enjoyed reading this, make sure to leave a review and tell me if I got anything wrong be it names, dates or other small details.**

 **-ALSO! Dean and John, while they may be everyone else's worst nightmare, they feel they are in no shape or form Abusive to Sam and will do anything to protect him, even if it means being (in their definition) "strict" with him.**

 **Thanks a lot for reading my fellow Hunters, till next time.**

 **-Kylelover101.**


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